


that's all we're going to do

by knightinbrightfeathers



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/F, Femslash February, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinbrightfeathers/pseuds/knightinbrightfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a weekend like any other until Penny sees her ex on national television.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that's all we're going to do

**Author's Note:**

> Based off on of those au prompt posts tumblr seems to generate. I hope I'm not TOO late to the femslash party...  
> Title from Lovely by 21 Pilots.  
> Also, I know nothing about the British Royal Family.

Weekends, in Penelope's book, are for relaxation. Penelope's book is a book crowded with late nights squinting at her laptop and grading freshman essays, guaranteed to make anyone want to take the rest of the month off, but as busy as she is during the week, she has her limits. Overwork is a killer, so she spends her Saturdays in sweatpants, eating cereal and working her way steadily through a book or a TV show.

But this morning her telly was still on a news channel from last night, and she's stuck on the familiar face on the screen. Agatha Wellbelove, Duchess of Kent and second in line to the throne of England, stares past the camera. She's impeccable, flawless as ever, every hair in place, probably caked in makeup. Little girls all over England want to be Agatha Wellbelove. She's a princess straight out of a fairytale, the kind of royal who never gets photographed throwing up outside a club. She gives away turkeys at Christmas, for fuck’s sake.

She's standing behind a podium, microphones littering its surface, her expression tight instead of that carefully controlled smile Penny hates so much. She's also obviously reading from a card, when usually she's so fluid in her speech.

Agatha Wellbelove, practically perfect in every way, says, “Ten years ago, this would not be possible. I'm grateful to you, the British people, for making this a possibility. It is your progress, your acceptance, and your love that allow me to stand here in front of you all.”

Agatha takes a deep breath. Penny remembers to breathe, remembers she's dribbling milk onto her shirt, remembers the remote. She's allowed to turn it off, to change channels, to relieve the feeling of getting punched in the gut she still gets every time a picture of Agatha shows up in the paper.

“Years ago, there was someone who was very important and special to me,” Agatha says, and Penny freezes with her hand halfway to the remote. “That person was my closest friend, and more than that, we were romantically involved. I broke off the relationship because I, and others who had Britain's and my best interests at heart, knew that it would never be accepted. This is because my partner was a woman.”

This is definitely not relaxing.

Penny's phone buzzes against the coffee table, making her jump. It's a text from Simon.

_Are you OK?_

Classic Simon. What a stupid question, born out of love.

 _Why Saturday?_ She sends back, not because it's important but because it's a question that's there, in the back of her mind, and it's easier to ask it than to say what she actually wants to say.

A few seconds later Simon sends: _Baz says probably because it's not prime time and they're hoping to pass it off as something small_ , which is almost definitely a simplification of Baz's actual words. It doesn't matter. Penny doesn't actually want an explanation. All she wants, needs, is something to ground her, and Simon and Baz's usual codependent, over-involved, in each other's pockets behavior helps.

This is the biggest bit of celebrity gossip since Simon relinquished his claim to the throne and bounced Agatha up the waiting list. There's no way the press is going to let it go.

Onscreen, Agatha continues. “In ending that relationship, I believed I was being true to my duty as a member of the royal family and to my country. I stand-” She pauses. “I wish I could say that I stand by my decision then, but I don't.” The words come quick and true, nothing like a prepared speech. “I hurt someone who I cared very much about and gave up a relationship that made me very happy. I betrayed both a deep friendship and my own principles.”

 _Fucking hell, Bunce_ , Baz sends. _Something you want to tell us?_

 _You were there when she dumped me_ , Penny replies, while Agatha returns to her scripted speech, going on about the open hearts and minds of the British people.

 _Yeah but it looks like she's saying take me back_ , Baz sends.

 _No, it looks like she's trying to make herself feel better_ , Penny sends. She's glued to the screen despite her bitter words, and when her phone buzzes again, she doesn't even look at it, because Agatha's deviated from the script again.

“Before I go,” she says, “I'd like to say something more. I know that some of you will inevitably get confused as to my sexuality. While this is perfectly understandable, I'd like to avoid it as much as possible. I hope I'm making some young person very happy right now, because God knows I would have loved to hear someone say this when I was figuring my orientation out.” Agatha looks straight into the camera like it's her best friend. “I'm biromantic asexual. Yes, this a thing that exists. Thank you.”

Penny leans forward, eyes huge in shock, and her forgotten bowl of cereal tips, soaking trousers and couch in milk. By the time she's gotten it cleaned up, she's got a dozen texts each from Simon and Baz each. The last one from Simon is _if you don't answer in 5 min I'm calling emergency services_. The last text from Baz is _She said the b word!!!!!_

 _Fuck that, she said the a word,_ Penny sends back, and calls Simon.

He answers immediately. “Do you need me to come over?”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine.” It's just an announcement, just a confession, just Agatha coming out to thousands of people on live television. It's not like it's a declaration of love or something. It isn't even a proper apology.

_I'm sorry, Penny, I'm so sorry - Penny - listen to me, damn it - I can't - I really am sorry, fuck, I am, but you have to understand -_

“Penny? Pen, are you still there?”

Penelope sighs. “It's been four years. I'm over it, okay?”

“Doesn't mean I can't come over.”

“Don't. I just need some time alone. Some quiet.”

“If you're sure…”

“I mean it,” Penelope says forcefully, because Simon is shit at politeness and if he thinks she's lying or putting on a brave face he'll come over, and she can't handle that now.

“All right.” There's muffled muttering from Simon's side of the conversation. “Baz sends love.”

“Thank you,” Penny says quietly, and ends the call.

She won't be able to calm down now, so Penelope resigns herself to a day of exam grading. At least it's a postgraduate class.

She's glaring at someone's idea of what the main theme in the Iliad is (regardless of what the student seems to think, it isn't gays) when there's a knock on the door. Penelope frowns and caps her red pen before getting up to get the door. Really, her friends are infuriating. Sweet, but infuriating.

“I told you I was fine, Simon-” Penelope begins, and stops, because it isn't Simon.

Agatha, in jeans and a beanie, is a far cry from the princess on the telly an hour ago. Whereas that woman had been composed and put together, if tense, this version of Agatha looks as if she's about to shake herself apart from the inside. The only thing they share is the laser focus. Penny feels pinned.

“I would have called, but I don't have your number anymore,” Agatha says.

“No, you don't,” Penny says. Part of her is screaming that she should have expected this, but it's being drowned out by the rest of her, which is just confused, as opposed to angry and heartbroken.

“Can I come in?” Agatha asks, and Penny remembers that there's a member of the royal family in the hallway. She nods and steps aside, shutting the door behind Agatha.

“Penny-” Agatha begins. Up close, Penny can see that she still has some of the heavy-duty TV makeup on, at the edges of her hairline and by her ear.

“Can I take your coat?” Penny says.

Agatha's face falls. “I know I don't have a leg to stand, but please, Pen.”

“You really don't,” Penny says.

“I came here straight from Buckingham,” Agatha says. Pleads. “Did you… you saw the broadcast, right?”

“If I hadn't, do you think I'd let you in?” Penny asks, even though she would have. “Coat, and am I to expect an army of paparazzi to arrive anytime soon?”

Agatha shrugs her windbreaker off. “I snuck out one of the back ways. There's probably time until someone bright thinks to look for you.”

And even if they do, Penny only moved here after the break up. Still, paparazzi tend to be relentless. Penny hangs up the coat and sits down on the couch. Agatha sits in the armchair, stiff as a Victorian matron.

“Is this-” Penny begins, at the same time Agatha says, “I know-”

They both stop talking. Agatha looks at her hands.

“What is this?” Penny asks. “Is this an apology, or do you want advice, or did you expect a tearful hug because you mentioned me in your coming out speech?”

Agatha's expression goes from lost to wry. “Gee, Pen, don't hold back.”

Agatha's words bring back memories, and Penny flinches. “I wouldn't, but I think neither of us want that conversation.” The conversation where Penny cries, because she ran out of screams four years ago. The conversation that ends with Agatha leaving and never coming back. The conversation that ignores the speech Agatha just gave to the entire UK. “You should probably say your bit.”

“Yes.” Agatha clears her throat. “I wanted to apologize. For being a piece of shit and leaving and never making contact afterwards. And for thinking only about myself.”

“You weren't thinking only about yourself,” Penny says. It hurts to say it, but she forges on. “You were a stupid kid, we both were, and you did what a bunch of PR dickheads told you was the right thing. You did your duty.”

Agatha shakes her head, mouth twisting unhappily. “At least give me some credit. I might not be the smartest person ever, but I made my own mistakes.”

“You definitely did,” Penny says. “Take all the blame you like. Hell, take some of mine.”

Agatha doesn't argue, just smiles a little, and it makes Penny feel as if their footing has balanced out.

“Is that it?” she asks.

“No,” Agatha says. She's worrying a piece of her shirt between two fingers, an old habit no coach could ever rid her of. “No, that's not it, don't kick me out like I didn't just put myself in a really vulnerable place just by coming here-”

“Do tell, princess,” Penny says, and this time it's Agatha that flinches.

“I wanted to be friends again, but if you're going to be mean and, and sarcastic-”

“I didn’t mean to,” Penny says hurriedly. “But friends? Why me? Why not Simon?”

“Don't be stupid, of course I'd come to you,” Agatha says. “You're my best friend.”

Penny raises her eyebrows skeptically. “After all this time?”

“Always,” Agatha says heavily, and _oh,_ Penny _gets_ it.

“Just because you said the word asexual on TV-” she begins.

“I know, and I don't expect you to take me back, I don't,” Agatha says. “I just - I guess I wanted closure or some shit, and I wanted you to know.”

“You can't just stay in love with someone for that long,” Penny says. “This isn't an Ashton Kutcher rom-com.”

“In love is a stupid term,” Agatha says. “When I said friend, I meant it. I loved you before I fell in love with you.” She stands up, brushing nonexistent dust off her jeans. “I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to put all of this on you. I'll go.”

“You're not going anywhere,” Penny says. “You can't just drop a bomb like that - fuck, Aggie.”

Agatha's expression melts, and she sits down again. “I'm sorry. I really meant what I said. I want to be friends again.”

“I don't want that,” Penny says. Agatha's face falls, and Penny adds hastily, “I do, I do want to be friends. But I don't want to be _just_ friends.”

“Weren't you the one who told me that there was no such thing as ‘just friends’?” Agatha asks, smiling.

“Weren't you the one who told me to stop nitpicking?” Penny retorts.

“Don't use my youthful prissiness against me,” Agatha says. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

Agatha nods, frowning slightly. “We should go slow. I only just came out, the press will eat you alive if we're together right after I came out. And besides, I did actually come out for other reasons. Role model for the youth and all that.”

“I don't mind waiting a little bit longer,” Penny says. “Just not too long.”

“We could kiss,” Agatha suggests. “To pass the time.”

“As it were,” Penny agrees solemnly.

Agatha gets up, sitting down next to Penny on the couch. They both lean forward, matching up in an almost-but-not-quite way that tells of how much they've changed, and how much work they'll have to do to make this work.

Still, Penny thinks as they break apart, it's kind of perfect.

The eventual paparazzi on her doorstep and pestering students at the university aren't, but weekends with Agatha are worth a little less relaxation.


End file.
